


Eternity With This

by snarechan



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Community: 30screams, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-31
Updated: 2006-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This piece takes place in original Egypt (NOT the Memory RPG) when Thief Lord Bakura is first sealed into the ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity With This

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine (the amazing, the stupendous Archica!) made a horror/angst/drama/scary fanfic challenge community, and I thought that this would be a great opportunity to get some real practice in writing for those genres.
> 
> I chose to write about Bakura from _YuGiOh!_ , since he's already into the whole creepy occult-like stuff. I'm a wimp, leave me alone. >.> This piece takes place in original Egypt (NOT the Memory RPG) when Thief Lord Bakura is first sealed into the ring.

Bakura was currently disoriented and face-down on the ground, his double-vision fading in and out periodically. It left him with the easy decision of remaining there until either his thoughts were clear or the pain he felt throughout his entire body decided to cease. Whichever came first.

Recovery was achingly slow and twice as painful. He felt as if his clothes should be tattered and his body in several minced pieces, or at the very least covered in numerous cuts and scratches. But as he managed to push himself up on shaky hands and knees, what little he could see of himself appeared to be all in order and accounted for.

Gathering what little strength he had accumulated, he maneuvered himself into an upright sitting position. Experimentally, he wiggled his stiff fingers, still unable to understand how he could possibly be feeling so much _pain_ and not have any physical signs to show for it. It was as if something else was damaged, not his mind or body but…

His soul.

Frowning a little, he lifted his head to take in his surroundings. There wasn’t much to see but endless black, the shade covering every angle and corner with its touch. There didn’t even look to be a floor, a ceiling, or walls, though there must have been something for him to sit on, otherwise how else would he be able to remain motionless where he was? The place was peculiar, if not a bit alarming in its unfamiliarity.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye, causing his observations to ground to a halt and his muddled thoughts to solidify as he tilted his head to spot the disturbance. It was a floating, white ball of smoke drifting towards him in a slow, almost erratic stream. While most would have been afraid of the strange phenomena, Bakura was relieved at its appearance, recognizing it as a spirit from his destroyed village. Reaching out a hand, he gave it a place to perch and closed his eyes, the soul sphere coming to rest in his palm with a comforting sensation like cool sparks.

He was glad, at least, that he was no longer alone here. Though he still had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there, it suddenly felt a lot easier to bear with at least one remnant of his home there with him.

Feeling it start to circle his arm, he opened his eyes again, watching as it swirled across his wrist and his upper arm. Slowly, it danced around his upper body before slithering down towards the ground to phase through the darkened floor.

“Wait, no!”

Gasping in alarm, he dove to grasp it, only to have its trailing tail pass through his fingertips. He grappled on the floor in vain, only to be met with a flat surface he couldn’t see. Bakura was about to let loose a desperate wail when something suddenly snatched his wrist, turning his cry into one of alarm.

It was a deathly-pale hand with scorched knuckles and a dark splotch of burned scar tissue across its back. He tried to tug back and out of the hold, but the hand only grasped him harder. Bit by bit, an attached limb began to appear as he backed away, soon revealing a scorched shoulder and female chest, then a neck and a face.

He could only stare as the body of his mother used her free hand to push herself the rest of the way out of the floor.

“Sweet child… Dear child…” she crooned from cracked lips. It was the only part of her face that wasn’t scarred by fire or cuts, the most prominent wound being a long gash slashed across both eyes. Though it should have blinded her, she seemed to be able to see him quite clearly, her wrecked body inching closer. “My child… Our child…”

Gradually, all over the space, there appeared numerous spots in varying shades of white, some bigger or smaller than their neighbors. As one, they all drew closer to the ground, disappearing past it and reappearing just as the woman in front of him had. Colorless hands of men, women, and children broke the pitch black surface to reach upwards, soon to be followed by the bodies of his people.

“Bakura,” they all chanted, crawling on knees without legs or on one hand, others having to claw or kick their way closer. “Bakura…”

He wanted to release a scream, to rant or yell or demand for these nightmarish creatures that looked like his people but couldn’t possibly be to get away _get away_ if only his teeth weren’t chattering so much. At the rate they were going, he’d bite off his own tongue by mistake before being able to utter a plea.

“You’ll still avenge us, won’t you?” a little girl cooed to his left, a black and shriveled arm coming to wrap itself around his elbow. He tried to shake her off, but many more joined in.

On his right, an elderly man coughed in his ear, sending the smell of rotting and smoked flesh in his face. “We trust in you.”

A murmur of agreement passed among the increasing number of ruined bodies, the masses closing in and crowding him. He was having a difficult time coping with being unable to distance himself, and so his mind tried to do so for him. The attempt was dashed as his mother’s mangled arms moved to wrap him in a hug that was supposed to be loving. Instead, it made him want to gag.

“You won’t fail us,” she murmured, stroking his hair with a hand missing fingers, “You’ll rise from the ashes…”

He started as the sensation of something akin to quicksand surrounded his ankles, his eyes darting downwards to witness his feet slowly sinking.

“From the ashes of our home…”

Bakura shuddered and began to struggle in earnest. But the more he struggled, the more everything closed in. Soon he was gone at the knees, then the thighs, and then his waist, with arms and hands and faces touching everywhere else.

“Stop it! Let me go!”

They bogged him down, dragging him with them as they, too, started to fade. Eventually all that was left was his head, his neck straining to keep it above the floor as if he were a drowning man in the Nile River.

“From the ashes of us.”

And with that, they were gone.

-Fin-


End file.
